


Jealous

by CastielsCarma



Series: Supernatural Stay at home [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Creation, Dean Winchester in Hell, Hunters & Hunting, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24118939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma
Summary: Castiel was there at the beginning, an angel of God created to observe and execute God's vision. Yet as the eons passed, the more he observed, the more aware he became of the other creatures that inhabited existence and the gifts they possessed that he didn't.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Supernatural Stay at home [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699483
Comments: 13
Kudos: 54





	Jealous

**Author's Note:**

> Part 6 of SpnStayAtHome challenge from Tumblr.
> 
> Today's prompt was Jealous.
> 
> This one started off in a way that was.. unexpected. But I went with it. It will make sense... I hope xD. Thank you for reading and commenting as always <3\. I appreciate every single one of you.

In the beginning, Castiel was. 

He knew of course, that he wasn't _the_ beginning but he recognized that beat of awareness that was him. Not much was known to him then, besides the feeling of purpose. That purpose was ingrained in him, beating with singular focus; an arrow aimed at the center of God's wishes. 

_Observe._

So Castiel observed. 

Galaxies formed, stardust was shaped into patterns that evoked something in Castiel that he was not sure he knew how to interpret. He was to observe, a being born from God's wishes and that's what he did.

The tightness of time was born, laced throughout the particular space he and others with him occupied. Other dimensions and planes were there too. He could feel them like a hum against his grace. 

Grace. It vibrated within him, a tune that hummed the first songs of creation and he knew that within him was power. Not to create, never that. God was the source of that. But it was a kind of power nonetheless. Power to shape, and power to heal, even though Castiel was not yet clear on why.

An unfamiliar feeling vibrated in rhythm with his own, one of slow deliberation, languid calculation. Castiel aligned himself with all dimensions, all times, all planes. He knew God was there, interwoven in the very fabric of everything. He was the Light.

Yet, there was Darkness.

Darkness that seemed vast and expansive, almost engulfing the multitude of spiral galaxies, orbs that traveled through infinite space and holes that penetrated one fabric of space to allow new threads to spill forth.

Castiel observed. And his grace vibrated. 

God directed his attention. 

_Observe._

And Castiel observed.

The planet was in one of the denser dimensions, and time fell heavily on him. It was an almost unsettling feeling. Castiel looked around, seeing his brothers and sisters swarm the planet, seemingly unaffected by the density of this plane. They pushed, formed, and shaped molecules, encouraging them to metabolize energy, grow, adapt.

Castiel aligned himself with Balthazar. 

They helped the planet along on its evolutionary path, only ever guiding it. Only God could conceive the visions of creation, and they facilitated.

As small creatures slowly rose up from the warm waters that covered most of the planet, Castiel watched. One of them was slow, struggling on the sandy surface and Castiel paused. Something washed over him. He could feel the other angels, his brothers and sisters, their grace burning and enveloping them in a blue glow on this plane of existence as they worked to execute the vision of God.

None of them paused.

Yet, Castiel did. 

Wasn't a pause an exercise in observation? An observation that was done thoroughly. He decided that it was so. 

Balthazar's presence was a comforting albeit a rather fast vibration against his own, his endless form surrounding him. Another vibration, stronger this time rocked with his own energetic body and Castiel hesitated. He was not sure how to convey why he had stopped.

It was not that he didn't want to form this planet, help it along its evolution – that was his purpose – yet, he couldn't help the pressing _need_ to pause. He released some grace as that thought passed through him. He was an angel of the Lord. Need was not only an abstract but a completely foreign notion. It should be.

Castiel went through other dimensions, traveled through other planes where he oversaw the creations of life in all shapes, forms, and energetic structures. Wherever he went, he could feel Michael and the humming song he left behind. The angel had the most in-depth understanding of God's vision and worked tirelessly in executing it. 

While Castiel did have significant progress in helping along with the consciousness in the lifeforms resembling huge shapes of crystalline rocks and found working with the vibration structures on the sixth plane to be fulfilling, he acknowledged – only in the alone thoughts of his inner mind – that Earth as God had named the planet – held a certain appeal to him. 

Castiel hid that thought from God and the others. 

_Observe_

So he did.

Earth had changed from when Castiel had last visited. He realized that he had to make more frequent visits, or stay longer on this heavy plane that felt sluggish compared to the sixth plane. Many angels were elsewhere, moving along as God's vision demanded it.

Castiel was not sure how everything was connected which unsettled him. God was the visionary, but were they not the executioners of that vision? Was it even possible for a plan to be perfect if it was not known fully? God was Light, but Castiel had been feeling of late that he stumbled in Darkness.

Balthazar's swift, energetic grace pressed up against his own, a comfort as Castiel watched Earth grow. 

Humans God had called them. 

Castiel saw them grow. Their spines erecting, their legs straightening, their brains growing. By his observations, he was not sure their minds had caught up. The universe and dimensions were endless and eternal, yet it seemed to Castiel that for all the assistance these humans had received from angels – and for all that they too were part of God's plan – they had stopped growing.

The Earth had cooled down, huge mountain tops had stopped spewing out fire and lava and oceans had settled. Trees with crowns that covered the skies had withered down to ones smaller in statues, the very ground had moved and cracked and the oceans had calmed. Life was constant movement, even in an object that seemed illusionary still. Life vibrated in unison with the atoms and electrons, and all the minuscule components that made up that rock. Cas knew that. 

A herd of mammoths walked the icy planes, looking for grass to forage. Castiel swarmed around the youngest, his grace gently touching them. While he was allowed to nudge them along, direct involvement had seized some time ago. Evolution was part of God's plan and an integral part of evolution was free will. 

Free will.

Something burned across Castiel's form, a ripple that he didn't dare identify.

_Observe._

And so Castiel did. 

He went down, trying to ignore the almost crushing sensation of heaviness that wrapped around him. Birds flew on strong wings, dogs ran on fast legs, and winds ruffled empty branches. Earth was teeming with life. Castiel brought in his grace, trying not to grimace.

Even the vibration of his grace seemed slower, duller here, despite him being surround in that blue shine like all angels. He condensed his grace even more, concentrated his energy inside of him until the only manifestation of his angelic nature was the azure shine of his eyes as he gazed at the world.

_Observe._

Castiel saw crude weapons, rocks shaped into sharp objects. A group of humans huddled close, sleeping near a fire that burned. He knew they didn't speak an advanced language, although they had the muscular capacity for it. In time that would come and time was all they had. 

This settlement of humans – more a small group living in a cavernous hole – had grown. Not only were their bodies different, leaner whereas before they had been more muscular – no, something else was different... They grunted and uttered some words, their brains were smaller yet more complex but the changes Castiel sensed were not of the physical kind. 

No, what had caught Castiel's attention was something he'd seen inside the cave.

Castiel looked at the stone wall. The fire's light didn't reach all the way inside but it was enough for him. Brown smears of paint, berries smashed and blood smeared that formed pictures on the rock. Deer, mammoths, weapons, and abstract figures that clearly were supposed to resemble humans. Slowly, he allowed himself to touch the pictures.

To create a piece like that, one's mind had to be free.

Castiel's grace burned inside of him and for the first time in his long existence, he wished it gone. He vibrated, raising his frequency as high as he could on this dull plane, this heavy earth that seemed to seep into his being with thoughts that were dark and feelings that were darker but it was futile.

He stopped, allowing the feeling to seep into him. He analyzed it methodically, but his grace flared up and he stopped. Again, he examined the sensations that overwhelmed him, made his form tremble. He let go of the mural, retracted himself and waited.

While he'd been aiding the multidimensional gas clouds on the seventh plane, he'd touched their minds. The strength in which they felt their emotions could only be described as very mild compared to the energy field of Earth and the high intensity he was experiencing right now but he needed only a fleeting memory of it for reference.

Jealousy. That was what he'd been feeling.

A sense of jealousy had washed over him at looking at the mural. 

Soon Castiel followed Balthazar to the second dimensional plane, and together they worked seamlessly to bring God's vision to life. He pushed down every unbidden thought of Earth that came to him.

They seemed to be an advanced life form now. 

Castiel had been away from Earth for some time and when he finally returned, the pressure was one that made him uncomfortable. It disturbed him so much that he compressed his form, realigning it so it resembled the shape of the humans. His vast being still spilled forth, out of his back in what resembled huge wings. 

Castiel flexed them, allowing the energy to flow through the wings freely. He could sense his grace vibrating, not a fast, spirited river but more a vast and calm ocean. He was filled with power still and that was all that mattered, the manifestation of it was not important.

Humans had not only survived but thrived. Balthazar was near the equatorial center of the Earth, distributing heat. The humidity and thickness in the air were almost oppressive and Castiel questioned Balthazar's almost joyful disposition. He sent his thought to Balthazar. _I think you should lower the frequency. Humans are fragile and their skin blisters easily._

_You have observed these humans much have you Castiel?_

Castiel could feel Balthazar stretch out his wings slowly. He knew by experience that their grace worked much more efficiently if it was concentrated on Earth but the feeling of being so dense was still something Castiel had to process. _I do follow the vision. I have not yet received a glimpse or a clue that speaks of their demise._

Balthazar flew some miles away until he found a river, and settled there. 

Sparks of pure energy in the air rippled over Castiel's form. _I don't think they'll meet the same fate as the dinosaurs._ Balthazar aimed a pulse of grace emanating from his body, expanding it into a huge sphere and placed it over the water. _Their form is perfect._

Castiel said nothing as Balthazar's grace mingled with the water. A low rumble soon after and the deep energy resonance shortly after that crackled over his form told Castiel that Balthazar had used a significant amount of grace. _You are only monitoring the body of water, Balthazar?_

_I am balancing out the minerals and other nutrients._

Castiel waited for more but the silence that followed was telling. _We are to aid in the evolution of this planet, not cause disruption._ He kept his thoughts calm.

_I'm aware._

A sudden splash caught Castiel's attention as something broke the surface of the water. He turned towards the sound and saw fish, their scale glistening in the sun as they jumped out of the water on fins that more resembled the aerial creatures than those in the oceans. _Balthazar, these fish are... altered._

Balthazar's grace rippled over Castiel's form, in a way that Castiel knew was there to remind him of the old days, were they where one and thought energy more than the energetic bodies they had evolved into. _I just sped up the evolutionary process somewhat and gave it an opportunity to go in a different direction. I am doing God's bidding._

Castiel dove down into the depths of the waters. Fish of all colors and sizes scurried away as they sensed his energy mingle with deep currents. The blue shine of his grace did its part in chasing them away too. He opened up his grace even more, allowing the glow to shine further as he assessed the precarious balance of the ecosystem. Balthazar's fishes seemed to be adjusting fine within this closed context.

He hovered there watching the schools of fish as they swam. Some played in the currents while others, larger ones with sharp teeth were on the prowl. Green sea plants turned towards the sun as it changed direction over the course of the day. They were part of God's design, yet they seemed to experience an effortlessness and ease that had come to evade Castiel for some time.

He thought back on the murals he found on the walls years ago and a spark of jealousy washed over him. Castiel urged his grace to vibrate more but he'd forgotten how sluggish this plane was. He was on the highest frequency and these thoughts were worrisome. 

If part of God's vision and plan was to lend humans the ability to step outside of his plan, to give them free will, then every choice that was born from that offering was also part of God's intent. Castiel trusted. His purpose still burned within him, with the same intensity as his grace. To observe and serve God.

***

Castiel ignored the cries of Halafiel behind him as three demons swarmed her. She was a proficient warrior, skilled with the angel blade and she would prevail. 

His grace crackled, and Castiel ran through the dark hallway alone, his wings tight by his side. He'd been in his human form for thousands of years, taking vessel after vessel, all in service to God. 

He still remembered when they were all one, when God's plan had been a simple thing of beauty. Now everything had changed yet Castiel still trusted.

To betray God and stray away from the path was inconceivable. Yet every step Castiel took on the road in Hell's most inner chambers solidified the notion that some of the angels, his very first creation that had been with him from the very beginning, had done just that.

The very walls seemed tainted with that. It was not a choice but a betrayal. Castiel allowed his grace to flare out as a shield and demons shrieked as they were burned to a cinder. Some of the stronger ones walked through the ashes that had been their former brothers and sisters, lunging at Castiel with sharp weapons enhanced with magic.

Castiel pierced skin, slashed at claws, and eradicated their flesh, his grace flaring as the demons screamed in their dying moments. He was exhausted but he kept going. A soul needed to be saved so the Apocalypse could commence. In one ending would be their new beginning. 

Castiel buried the thought that came to him swiftly, a hope for a new beginning for _him_. One where questions didn't plague him. One where feelings didn't assault him. One where doubt didn't assuage him. 

He would find the Righteous man and they would all be saved.

Humans had since primordial times been creatures of society. To be ostracized and forcefully cut off from social bonds seemed to be particularly harsh for them. No wonder that demons used that to their advantage. Pain and isolation were harsh but effective mistresses.

Time was not relevant on this plane, but Cas could feel it as a heavy hand pressing down on his back nonetheless. His grace flared out again, searching for that soul that he knew was Dean Winchester's. A human would be corrupted in this place of pain, lies, and torment and Dean had already suffered heavily.

Castiel stopped, sensing something just as another wave of demons attacked him. They seemed to be endless, the entire microbiome in the ocean, washing over him incessantly. His grace burned brightly, the blue light eradicating creatures and while Cas was present, his mind honed in on a weak pull that seemed to come from above. 

A small crack in Hell's energetic field, a fissure in the shield that protected Heaven's hope and Hell's demise.

Castiel shoved his fist through the hole, his wings flapping as he took off. Endless cages hovered suspended into nothingness. Wrongness echoed all over Hell, so permeated into the walls that Castiel wanted to tear out his own grace in an effort to save it from being corrupted by this place.

Pain drummed through him and he had trouble distinguishing if it was his own body – muscles aching, wings throbbing and grace slowly being depleted – or if it was the haunted echoes of immeasurable souls being tortured.

Legions of angels were behind him, shielding him as he followed that pull from one soul. Castiel reached out and shoved his fist through a demon with foul eyes while touching another one with a hand against its chest. They both vanished with a glow of light surrounding them.

That pull was so discernible now that Castiel would have been able to walk blind and find his brilliant soul among a thousand shining stars. As he reached out and touched a bar on the cage, fist closing around it, the wall that had been designed to keep souls locked away shattered. Castiel walked inside.

Dean Winchester's soul burned like the sun.

Castiel had been alive for eons, yet paused briefly at the wonder of seeing such brilliant light in the pit of deepest despair. “ Don't be afraid. I've come for you.”

The cage was small, too cramped to hold any expansive soul but that was the architecture of Hell. Walls designed to keep souls in and an atmosphere made to invoke fear, terror, and above all hopelessness. 

“Stay back... You think I'll fall for your tricks again.” Dean's voice was subdued, almost a whisper but Castiel could hear the spirit of fight was in him still. 

“This is no trick.” Castiel walked up slowly to Dean as not to startle him. 

Dean had one arm over his eyes, shielding himself from Castiel's grace. 

His soul was frayed, but it burned brightly, defiantly even. Castiel briefly thought back to Earth's infancy when life had left the womb in the water and taken its first precarious steps on land. To think an endless sequence of events had led them to the evolution of mankind, all the way to the soul who was Dean Winchester; if that wasn't a sign of God's wisdom, a sign of imminent victory over the demons that threatened to overrun not only Heaven but all life on Earth, Castiel didn't know what he would believe in. 

“We need to go before we're overrun.” Castiel extended a hand but Dean didn't make a motion to follow.

“Over my dead body I'm going with you, you flying piece of – “ Dean's outburst was cut short.

Castiel could feel them, his grace pulsating in warning even before his other senses revealed demons with black eyes – faces marred with centuries of evil – entering the small space. He turned and threw his angel blade at one demon as he knelt down and grabbed another demon, burning him out with his grace.

He could feel his grace being siphoned away and more demons would come. Hell was overburdened with the fallen. 

Castiel looked hastily at Dean, before grabbing him by the shoulder, his fingers digging in strongly. What was found would not be lost again.

He could hear screams echoing all around him, demons spewing out their hatred at an angel of the Lord claiming a soul that they deemed was theirs, and distantly he registered Dean Winchester screaming. But all those noises were overshadowed by the feeling of his grace surging through him as he took flight. 

He beat his wings, taking to the sky, Dean Winchester's soul firmly in his grasp. As they flew higher, away from Hell and the darkness, Dean's soul burned. Its ferocity and willingness to fight in a place submerged in deepest despair was a living promise of its resilience and its brilliance.

Dean's soul burned brighter than anything he'd ever seen. It was a defiant fire that incinerated everything in its path and it was beautiful. Castiel's grace sung, vibrating in unison with Dean's soul. Castiel called out triumphantly to all angels who could hear him. “Dean Winchester is saved!”

***

Castiel had been with the Winchester brothers for years. It was an infinitesimal time span in the life of an eternal being such as himself, yet the moment he saved Dean the following moments – sequences that strung together to form hours, days, and weeks – had a deeper meaning than all the eons that had come before him.

The Winchesters mattered. 

Dean Winchester mattered. 

Castiel cleared his throat, diverting his thoughts. His feelings for Dean were profound. They had been a part of each other lives for years and familiarity was bound to happen. Dean was human after all, social interactions with the people he considered close were important to him. 

Dean was also a man of integrity. He was a highly skilled warrior and never gave up. He had a big heart, cared deeply, and was fiercely loyal to those close to him. There were a lot of qualities to admire in such a man.

Castiel quelled the voice that spoke up, reminding him that he admired Dean for far baser reasons than for his sense of duty and honor. 

“Alright, so we all agree?” Dean's voice cut through Castiel's musings.

“I don't know why it necessarily has to be you, Dean. I can do it.”

Dean looked at Sam, a questioning raise to his eyebrow. “You? What are you gonna do? Walk up and charm them with your awesome knowledge about serial killers? 'Hey, lady. You're looking mighty fine this evening. Did you know that most serial killers hide in plain sight? But I can assure you, miss. There ain't nothing plain about you.'” Dean snickered and swiped his beer. “Nah, leave this to the pros.”

As Dean left the table, Sam moved to the back of the bar, positioning himself next to the fire exit. 

Castiel had an open view of the entrance and if the shifter tried to take that route they were covered. He doubted that the shifter would try to run though. This was the second weekend in a row that a man had gone missing from the club, only to be found dead in the parking lot or in the near vicinity. The lead so far had been a couple of witnesses that had seen both men with a dark-haired, beautiful woman. 

Dean had done some digging and found out that the mystery woman in front of them had died over four weeks ago, a state over. After reviewing the bar's security video, they'd discovered the tell-tale glow of silver-gold reflected in her eyes. She had long black hair, some of the bluest eyes he'd seen, and wore a dress that Castiel gathered was appropriate for this sort of establishment. Her features were very symmetrical which he knew was a measure of beauty among humans and a common way to capture a mate.

The blue-footed boobies showed off their feet to potential mates – Castiel assumed he'd do the same if his feet were blue. Betta fish made a net of small bubbles. Sloths screamed out for a mate. While that would surely be an effective way to find a potential mate if you were human, it would also lead to a serious migraine and sore throat. Some penguins presented their potential mate with a perfect pebble but this woman did not look like the kind to appreciate a smooth and pleasant stone – not if it wasn't the diamond kind.

Humans. Their seduction rituals were as puzzling as their taste in food. How could fried potatoes and ice cream be a good combination when they were the opposite on the culinary scale?

Dean and the woman already sat close to each other at the bar desk, their legs almost touching. The woman laughed at something Dean had said and leaned in closer, using the pretense of grabbing a bowl of peanuts to brush her hand close to Dean's arm. It lingered there and Dean never removed it. Soon she played with the straw of her drink, sipping her alcohol slowly. Dean's eyes flickered to her lips, and he wet his own quickly before taking a swipe of his beer. Castiel sat in silence, observing how subtly they danced. 

It was a dance. Many animals had mating dances before deciding which partner was worthy of their attention. Carrying on genes to future offspring was a serious endeavor. Birds of paradise danced intricately, hoping to allure females with their puffed-up neck feathers and high jumps. Praying mantes used pheromones to lure males in before mating with them _or_ eating them. You could never really tell which it was with mantes. Maybe that was part of the allure of being a male praying mantis.

Castiel narrowed his eyes as the woman squeezed Dean's arm, her fingers subtly going up and down, soothing him.

Dean had plastered on artificial pheromones, Castiel recalled, some sort of perfume that he himself considered too sharp for the nose. While he found the scent unpleasant the woman seemed to enjoy it. Dean angled his body towards her, a moth seeking a flame.

A spark of warmth flooded Castiel's body and he ground his teeth together. He exhaled, trying to calm down his heart which pounded loudly in his chest. Dean was in no immediate danger and from past victims they knew that she killed in private. The bar was just her current hunting ground. He shut down the small voice in the back of his head that told him it wasn't worry he was feeling.

Of course, he was worried about Dean. And Sam... They'd died too many times already for his liking. 

He tore his gaze from Dean and the shifter, looking out over the crowd. The music had taken a turn from mellow and soft to a more upbeat, rhythmic melody. Evening was slowly turning into night, and with people's inhibitions being lowered with alcohol, the dance floors would soon be swarming with people.

Castiel grabbed the top rail of a chair, leaning heavily on it. He was going for a relaxed and casual stance. Looking over, he saw that Sam was still near the exit nursing a drink while keeping a lookout. He did a casual thumbs up in the general direction of Castiel before taking a step back, disappearing in the background.

When Castiel looked back to the bar, the woman had her hands in Dean's hair, stroking casually as if she'd already laid a claim on him. Dean brushed back her black hair, a thumb rubbing softly on her cheek.

Something burned in Castiel's gut and his whole body coiled tightly, ready to spring into action. He blinked as something cracked in his palms. Surprised he let go of the top rail on the chair and took a step back. The broken piece clattered down on the floor but no one seemed to have noticed and the loud music masked the sound of the pieces shattering.

He watched as the shifter slowly brought her lips to Dean's and he closed his eyes as she kissed him softly. One of his hands went to her black hair, pulling slightly and Castiel noticed her chest rise and fall, her breath quickening. 

Castiel was already heading towards the bar, his heart pounding so loudly that the music came to him dull and muted. A flash of anger coursed through him but he shut it down. It was totally irrational to feel anger towards Dean during a hunt; he was just doing his job. 

Castiel didn't ease up on his steps. 

Sudden movement from the corner of his eye made him look up.

Sam was waving frantically, shaking his head no. 

Castiel quirked his eyebrow. Sam acted like Castiel was going to jeopardize the mission. He had been there when the universe had been conceived, he'd experienced the divide in the angelic host, and he'd rescued Dean from the bowels of Hell with grace burning the demons to dust. 

He knew what he was doing.

With determined steps, he slid down on the empty chair next to her. He noticed Dean's eyebrow shot up in surprise, him pulling off her.

“This is a public space. Not a suitable place for indecency.” Castiel thought he sounded calm and collected but his pulse said otherwise as it jackhammered just below the surface.

“What the hell....man?” Dean found himself quickly, lowering his voice in anger. Anger that Castiel was certain he didn't have to fake. “What are you doing _here_?”

The woman looked from Dean to Cas. “Do you two know each other?”

Castiel's blood was still heated. He knew that Dean had followed the plan to a tee, they had all agreed that this was the course of action that made the most sense given the shifter's m.o. yet he still felt agitated. 

“Nah, we don't know each other. No idea what this dude's problem is.” Dean got up, slammed a bill on the bar, and looked at Castiel with daggers in his eyes. 

The woman followed suit, casting a glance at Castiel before Dean's hand on the small of her back guided her towards the exit. Soon she was whispering something in Dean's ear and Dean shrugged muttering about crazy people.

Castiel took a few calming breaths, reminding himself of why they were there. They walked through the throng of people, past Sam who just kept staring at Castiel.

Castiel gave them ten seconds before quickly following them. Sam was next to him. “Cas, what's going on? Is Dean in danger?”

“No, he's fine.” Castiel recognized how tense he sounded. Softening his voice, he shook his head. “We follow the plan, just as we agreed upon.”

“Follow the plan?”, Sam sputtered. “That was not part of any plan. What if she'd seen – “

Castiel was already out the door. The Impala was parked some distance back from the bar, in an area of the parking lot where street lights didn't reach her, making it a good spot to take down a shifter, away from curious eyes. The previous two victims had all been found dead either on the property or close by.

He could see that they weren't there and there were no hidden alleys or buildings to hide in. So either they were in her car, which Castiel found unlikely – Dean would never fall for a ploy to get into her car and be trapped like that, not while knowing what she was. He wasn't reckless, well not most of the time – or they had found some area that allowed privacy. 

On the other hand his... decision to intervene, early might have forced Dean to do something rash. He heard a giggle on his left and zeroed in on the area where some dumpster were. Thin grass covered a small space between two parking spaces and the crown of trees created a dark canopy over the metallic containers; a perfect spot to hide away from curious eyes. 

Castiel ran over just as he heard another sound, this time a cry as something slammed into the metal. 

Dean was on the ground, back against the container. 

Castiel saw that Dean's weapon loaded with silver bullets was too far away, probably having been kicked away in the ensuing fight. 

Dean's eyes flickered quickly to Castiel, before he grunting, slowly got up on two feet again. “Man, you kick one hell-uva-punch,” he rasped.

“Hunters! I could smell it all over you.” 

“Hey, that was the good stuff. I splurged and bought the EDT.”

She jumped Dean again, one hand wrapping around his throat. She lifted him effortlessly, Dean's feet hanging in the air.

Castiel pulled out his silver blade.

The shifter turned slightly, hissing furiously but she was still cautious. She had to get past him to escape. “If you don't back off, pretty boy here dies.” She tightened her hold on Dean.

Dean glared at her furiously, but couldn't do anything.

Sam showed up at Castiel's back, gun drawn. 

“Now it's really a crowd. Back up. Gun down. I want you to kick it over, slow movements.”

Sam looked at Cas, who nodded. Slowly, Sam dropped down on one knee, lowering the gun to the ground. “There. I did as you said.”

The shifter moved, dragging Dean against the container wall, her hold still iron tight around his throat. “Good. Now be a good little hunter and kick it over.”

Sam did as he was told. The gun clattered to a halt, near her shoes. 

“See, mama was wrong. Not all hunters are stupid.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes, taking in all of his surroundings. The way the shifter held Dean, how the wind was calmer here, naturally shielded by the trees. He also took account of the reflexes of an angel in comparison to a shifter, the distance between himself and her.

“I don't know what you are but I suggest you do the same, twinsie.”

“Alright.” Castiel exhaled, allowing his blade to drop just a fraction before he twisted his wrist. The blade flew from his hand and found true aim. 

Dean dropped to the ground as the shapeshifter let go, screaming as the blade lodged into her heart. She grabbed the knife, hands around the blade, her eyes still wide in surprise. She was dead before she hit the ground.

A few seconds of silence passed before Sam spoke up. “Dean, Cas, you guys alright?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, I'm fine.” He got up and grabbed Dean by the arm. “You OK, Dean? I can heal your – “

Dean waved his arm, wrenching himself free. He turned like a storm, thunder in his eyes. “What the fuck was that about, Cas? You walk up to her and blow our cover and then you, you – just stand there offering yourself up as shifter snack?”

Castiel knew that Dean had been fearful. Fear often manifested in anger in humans. “I was just making sure that you were alright.” Even to his own ears, he heard how feeble that sounded. Sam had been right. They had devised a plan and he hadn't stuck with it due to what? A sudden feeling?

“Yeah, well I was doing fine! Everything was under control.”

“It hardly looked like that from where I was standing.” Castiel didn't know why the sudden flare of anger welled up in him. “And I was not the one offering myself up as shifter snack as you put it.”

Dean walked up to Castiel. “What did you say?” His voice was low as he turned to Sam. “Did you hear what he said, Sammy?”

Sam looked over his back before addressing Dean, a pained expression on his face. “Yeah, I heard. Look guys, I don't think this is neither the right time nor the right place to talk – 

Dean cut him off. “Oh, we will talk, Sammy.” He turned to Castiel again. “So talk, Cas. Talk! Cause I need to understand what compelled you to totally deviate from our plan, a plan that you helped devise?!” Dean's voice cracked at the end, and Castiel wasn't sure if it was from the pain of being hoisted up in the air or if it was due to anger.

It was hard for Castiel to formulate any rationale besides the realization that he'd been jealous at the shifter. At how Dean had responded to her, how they seemed to gravitate towards each other. That she got the opportunity to rake her fingers through his hair, that she could caress Dean and not worry about the touch lingering for too long, that she could feel the heat as his fingers trailed over his – Cas cleared his throat. “I was assessing her.”

“Assessing her?! What for? We went through the plan a thousand times, Cas. Nowhere did it say, let's turn it into a threesome.”

“I wasn't the one offering myself up as shifter snack.” Castiel's voice was low and as soon as the words were out he regretted them. He hadn't realized how much on edge he was but seeing Dean in danger, almost losing him (again) had cut his tongue loose.

“Offering myself up? You think I wanted to – with _her_?”

Castiel cleared his throat. He was not sure how the conversation had veered into this territory. “I think we should dispose of the body and clear the scene. Sam?”

“Sam stays.” Dean's voice was hard.

Castiel could hear Sam sigh. “Dean, I don't think – “

“Then stop thinking.” Dean turned to Castiel again. “So tell me, what got you thinking I wanted her? Hm, Cas? What was so important that you almost freaking died?”

Castiel tried to wrap his mind around how this evening had turned out like this. And while he didn't agree with Dean's assessment that he'd almost died – he was a warrior after all, a tactical strategy was his forte and death was always a risk – he had to confess that he hadn't been thinking as clearly as he usually did.

“She was touching you and I thought that – “

“What? That she'd gank me right then and there. We know that's not how she did things. So what that she touched me?! Fucking hell, if you don't wanna tell me then fine, Cas but I swear if you pull a stupid stunt like this again, risking your – “

Dean's barrage continued, and the surge of heat Castiel felt at the bar watching Dean and the shifter together morphed into something else, anger. An anger that eroded all false pretenses until the cold hard center of truth remained.

“I was jealous.” Cas clipped of the words.

He could see Dean's anger giving way to confusing. His eyebrows which had been drawn down eased up. His mouth was still set into a grim line but a flicker of uncertainty could be seen in his eyes. He licked his lips. “You were j-jealous?”

Castiel averted his gaze as a strange pain wrapped around his heart, his mouth suddenly dry. Besides losing Dean to death, losing him while he was still alive had been his greatest fear and now he'd caused that very thing, all thanks to his brash words. “I...” The cat was out of the bag as humans said. He kept staring at the ground, wishing it would swallow him whole. “Yes. I was jealous.” 

He could hear Dean shifting, his feet moving some gravel around. Dean cleared his throat, his voice suddenly softer. “I see. Ahh... Um. Who were you – You were jealous, Christ Cas.” Dean let out a harsh, incredulous laugh.

“Her.” 

Castiel could hear the surprise in Dean's voice. “What?”

“Dean, um, Cas. I'll just go over there.” Sam turned and rounded the corner of the container.

Castiel was grateful for the privacy, even if it was illusionary. 

“You were jealous of her because she was touching me?”

Castiel exhaled. It would almost have seemed comical to him, finally telling Dean between two trash containers the depth of his emotions he felt for him, if that wouldn't so accurately depict the state of his mind right then. He had ruined the relationship with his best friend. “Look, Dean. When we get back to the Bunker I'll leave– “

“Cas.” Dean's voice was soft, almost reverent. “Cas, look at me, man. I don't wanna say this shit to your hair. It's kickass hair but still...”

Slowly, Castiel looked up, finally meeting Dean's eyes. 

Castiel knew that the concept of colors depended on a variety of things, light receptors in the eye, the human brain – if you were human at all – and which plane and dimension the soul inhabited. But as he stared into Dean's eyes, he saw the most amazing hazel color, only made more startlingly beautiful by the fierce glow of hope reflected in them. “You were jealous of her because you wanted to...to do the same with... _me_?” The last word was quiet.

Castiel hesitated but seeing the hopeful look in his eyes dim down as Dean guarded himself against disappointment was too much. “Yes, and when I saw you kiss her I – “ Castiel stopped midsentence.

Dean's jaw was set, his eyes darting back and forth before his gaze settled on the ground. 

During the billions of years Cas had been alive, he'd seen death in countless shapes and forms. Swift deaths that brought no awareness of impending doom, deaths that were measured and slow, designed to inflict the worst kind of pain on flesh and mind. He'd seen the death of millions, mourned by none, and he'd been witness to the death of one mourned by millions. But as Dean looked down at the dark asphalt, Castiel knew that the death of Dean's love for him – in whatever shape it had been up until then – would be his biggest pain to bear and his deepest regret.

Dean looked up, determination still written on his face. 

“Dean, I'm sorry – “

Dean surged forward, grabbed Castiel's face between his hands, and kissed him.

Utter shock paralyzed Castiel before the most ancient part of his brain urged him to move, to be aware, to _feel_. 

Dean's lips on his mouth were hesitant at first, his hands almost trembling. Salt, the faint taste of metal and guns and a scent that was uniquely Dean's assaulted Castiel. 

Castiel was an anchor out at sea, falling deeper while the dark ocean around him remained the same; rolling waves on the surface that gave way to strong currents underneath. He was falling and there was no ocean floor to catch him, just endless depths. 

Dean stilled for a fraction of a second, and that was enough.

Castiel grabbed him by the back of his hair and pulled him in closer. He thrust his tongue into Dean's mouth, kissing him with all the longing he'd kept hidden in his heart for so many years. His hands carded wildly through Dean's hair as they breathed out harshly in unison.

Castiel's blood was boiling, the heat in his body all-consuming. All awareness of his surroundings had vanished. There was only Dean Winchester, the taste of his lips on his own, the way he pressed himself against Castiel wanting more, the way his hands grabbed on, never letting go.

Finally, after an immeasurable amount of time that Castiel wished had been longer still, they pulled apart, both wide-eyed and breathing heavily. 

A smile played at Dean's lips but he wouldn't face Castiel. After a few beats of no words between them, Castiel dared break the silence. “That was – “

Dean looked at Castiel then, his small smile breaking out in a huge grin. “Amazing, Cas. That was fucking amazing.” He turned serious all of a sudden. “Uh, I guess you kind of know, I don't know if – “ Dean shook his head, laughing silently at himself before exhaling. “Alright, here goes. I... um...I love you, Cas.”

In the beginning, Castiel had been. And now, finally, he was complete. “I love you too.”

“Finally!” Sam rounded the corner, a huge smile on his face. He wrapped Dean in a huge hug. “I'm so happy for you guys, but fucking finally.” He grabbed Cas and pulled him in, squeezing them both.

“Thanks Sammy.” When he didn't wanna let go, Dean pushed at him. “Alright, enough. We still have work to do.” 

Castiel nodded. “Yes, we need to take care of her. 

“I'll drive Baby up here, she'll provide additional cover while we put the shifter in the trunk.” 

It was strange that Castiel occupied a space of normalcy when his entire world had shifted in one night. He looked at Dean. He was still the same yet there was something different about him. He moved like a man unburdened, a man that could finally breathe again.

Dean stole a glance at Castiel, shook his head in disbelief, still smiling. “You were jealous.”

Castiel just smiled.

Dean wiggled an eyebrow at Cas, before realization set in and he groaned. “Man, I can't believe our first kiss happened while we were surrounded by dumpsters.”

“We'll have the opportunity for many more first kisses in a lot of places.”

Sam patted Castiel on the back. “As long as I'm not around for them, good for you guys.”

They worked quickly and efficiently, with an experience born from years of being hunters and warriors.

As they drove off, Dean grabbed Castiel's hand.

Castiel reveled in the feel of Dean's hand against his own. The calloused skin telling stories of countless hunts for monsters, thousands of shots fired, numerous people saved.

Everything had changed, yet nothing had.


End file.
